Breaking through our Gallipoli 'myth'

Updated
Sun 2 Nov 2008, 12:36 PM AEDT

Photo

'They died so that we could be free,' said one Australian at a Gallipoli Anzac Day ceremony.

ABC

ABC Middle East correspondent Ben Knight reported from Gallipoli that human remains from World War I had been damaged by new roadworks. Over the past six days, he has been watching the reaction to the story in Australia.

I remember watching a TV news story some years back about the Anzac Day ceremony at Gallipoli.

The reporter was interviewing a young Australian wrapped in a flag, and asked her why she had come to Gallipoli.

"I came to pay my respects," she said. "They died so that we could be free."

I was utterly depressed by her answer. Gallipoli, of course, had nothing to do with dying for anyone's freedom, and that is the tragedy of the story.

For that young woman to have travelled all that way, braved the freezing wait for dawn, and still not really have a clue about what happened there and why it was about so much more than pro patria mori, it seemed to me to be another tragedy.

But the Anzac legend, of course, has long been subsumed into something larger, and not always healthy. I have been watching the reaction to my report from Gallipoli last week on human remains being damaged by roadworks.

Most news outlets in Australia picked up the story. Some put their own stamp on it. I saw a headline in The Daily Telegraph saying "Bodies Cut In Two By 'Dozers'". It was highly inaccurate, but not unexpected.

There was always going to be that gut reaction in the tabloid media for whom Gallipoli is a key part of Australia's national myth.

Former prime minister Paul Keating this week called it "jingoism". It is what led that young woman to Gallipoli with a completely fictitious concept of its significance.

I have never felt comfortable with the sort of wrap-yourself-in-the-flag patriotism that Americans do so well, and Gallipoli is the epicentre of it for Australians.

Tony Wright, in The Age, lamented the hand-wringing response to my report - pointing out that at least 10 times as many Turks than Anzacs died there, and that its significance to the Turks is often forgotten by Australians who regard it as somehow "our" territory.

The head of the RSL, Major General Bill Crews, seemed annoyed that the Turkish Government had been criticised - saying that any work to improve the roads would have turned up human remains, and that the quick agreement between the Australian and Turkish Governments could prevent any further degradation to the area.

But this is exactly the point. Who is watching? Who is supervising? And who is protecting this remarkable site? It is not just Australians who are upset. In Turkey this week, historians and protection committees there have also criticised Turkey's Government for the way this project was managed.

But on the question of what there is to be upset about, I suppose I have some sympathy for both views - one, that over-the-top outrage about the sacred bones of 'our Diggers' is unhealthy; the other, that their unmarked graves are worthy of more care than they are getting under their current custodians.

This was my first visit to Gallipoli. It is a remarkable place, largely because of what has been preserved for the past 93 years. You can walk the trench lines. You can look into the tunnels. And yes, if you look for them, you can see human bones - roadworks or no roadworks.

This is no grassed over battlefield dotted with the odd marble plaque to explain what happened.

Gallipoli is different. And someone just needs to keep an eye on it to make sure that it stays that way.

The roadworks I saw were done without asking anyone - Turkish or Australian - if they had any thoughts on how to do it properly, but sensitively.

Turkey's Prime Minister had promised to do just that. He needs to be held to that promise in future if Gallipoli's unique, living history, is to be protected for both countries.

Based on a report by Ben Knight for Correspondents Report, November 2, 2008.